


Prettiest Little Omega | Remake

by dorker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A/B/O, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Minor death, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorker/pseuds/dorker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remake of Pretty Little Omega</p><p>In a world where Omegas are often held as prizes, or the common folk, Betas are the unicorns of the world, and Alphas still have more freedom, John tries to fight his way through it. He's befriended Amilee, but he doesn't know what to do with his life. But, one thing's for sure; the past repeats its self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prettiest Little Omega | Remake

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know if any of the medical stuff is correct. Please tell me if something is off!  
> But for future notice; violence and sexual content will play a part. I will try to warn at the beginning of the chapter, but we'll see. Progress is slow and Semester Tests are coming up.

   "Opinion?" To anyone, it would have looked like the hunched over brunette was talking to himself. Seconds passed, Sherlockstill examining the dead body with a skeptical, unwavering look.   
   "John? Opinion?" The voice was firm and near commanding, ordering his partner around.  
   "Alright, Sherlock!" The Omega stooped next to the brunette, examining the body. It hurt him through instincts and morals to see an Omega -like himself- dead, bruises and scars from previous fights covering her body. Most of them were old, but there were a few here and there that looked rather fresh - two days at most. The woman had been assumed to have died nearly two days ago. A bit of mumbling in the background brought John back to the present.  
   "Ah-uhm, Infection. Her bond isn't clean, but it's somewhat fresh," _forced_ , "but trauma must have hit her hard from infection. But.. that's not what killed her. It might've put her in shock, but she's overdosed on something. Probably anti-depressants. Bottle is two days old, and it felt way too light to have 'thirty' of them."  
   Sherlock -ever the Alpha- remained ignorant of John's dwindling nerves and energy. The man stood and looked down at the scene again - taking in the wood and the way the woman was laid out. John was getting better at deducing, that was good. He was slowly turning from one of the normal    imbeciles of the world. Sherlock turned sharply on his heels and left, his coat wooshing after him as he near ran down the stairs.  
   From the top floor, John was frozen over the dead Omega, looking her still body over. He could hear Sherlock rambling on and reminding the Yard just how terrible they were and how much they needed the great detective. A rude exchange of some sort was exchanged with Anderson - the man's high noted whine of indifference traveling up the stairs. The front door opened and was slammed shut; Sherlock was gone. All was quiet once again, and John's thoughts were turned back to the woman. He was unaware of his scent wafting through the building, worry and grief lingering in it.  
   "John?" He didn't hear it, and ignored the footsteps coming up. "John!" The Omega flinched and sat back, looking up at Lestrade as he came closer and kneeled next to John. "Come on, let's get you home," Lestrade offered his hand and John took it unthinkingly. They stood up slowly- for John's own benefit of course, LEstrade pulled away and headed to the door, their hands falling to their sides. The Omega bit his cheek to keep from whimpering at the loss of contact and followed.   
   "You know, you look like you could use a drink and then some. Let me take you to a pub," Greg looked up at John as they headed down the stairs. John nodded, still quiet and to himself from seeing that Omega.. so beautiful but she was just left like that. John spaced out and followed Lestrade around, unaware of what the man was saying. He didn't noticed the worried and disgusted looked pointed towards him as he was lead out by Greg.  
Lestrade lead John to a simple black car and opened the passenger seat for John before getting in into the drivers seat, and buckled himself in. Checking the rearview mirror, he adjusted it a bit and then turned the car on. He pulled out of the parking garage. They drove in a peaceful silence, Greg noticing the shift in scent in the car. John was starting to relax, That was good.  
   "It's a Tuesday," Greg started, trying to be casual enough to keep it conversational. Or as conversational as he could manage. "Usually on Tuesdays, there are only regulars there, so it's quiet. But the bartender, Amilee, is a cute Beta girl. She's working on getting a degree-you should ask her about it. She's talkative but knows when to keep quiet. Sweet girl," Of course Greg was trying to set John up, something to keep the man's mind off of the dead woman. Bringing work home wasn't healthy-hell, living with a man such as Sherlock wasn't healthy.   
   When time passed too fast for them, Greg pulled up to the curb and put the car in park and turned the key. "You go ahead and go on and put whatever you get on my tab - got a call to make. I'll be in soon," Greg smiled to John, catching his eye. Nodding, John got out of the car and headed into the pub, a bounce in his step. Maybe talking about Amilee had done the trick. Once the door was shut yet again, Greg grabbed his phone from his pocket and rang up Mycroft.

  The phone rang once before a familiar female voice answered him. "Hello Mr. Lestrade. I assume you've called to contact Mr. Holmes? I'm afraid he's a little busy in a meeti-"

   "I'm sorry to intrude, but I need to talk to him. It's not about his brother, but John Watson."

   "Oh. Alright, I'll see if I can pull him out of the meeting for you, then. Please hold."  _Great. On hold yet again._ Greg sat and waited, phone to his ear for a minute - counting it down to the last second - before Mycroft's voice rang in his ears. "Before you say anything about how you were in an important meeting and try to guilt-trip me, hear me out. John and Sherlock were at a crime scene, but John acted.. differently. Sherlock disappears a lot on John, but this time John didn't follow. He smelled of fear and remorse and what I'm guessing is worry. Worry, Mycroft. I want you to dig as deep through records and anything to do with John. He behaved like something similar had happened to him - and that is something I am not okay with."

   "This doesn't help me; what do I look for in particular?"  _That was quick._ This was not the time to think about how bad Mycroft was with replying; usually they'd wait minutes before one of them broke and actually spoke again. At least, over the phone.

   "Death, abuse, bad relationships, any Alphas he's been involved with. Abandonment, etcetera etcetera."

   "I shall see what I can do then." The line went dead and Greg grumbled. Of course, a simple good-bye was out of the man's vocabulary. Why was he not surprised. Shrugging it off, Lestrade got out of the car and headed into the bar, not bothering to check the time. The conversation had felt like it had been only a few minutes, but the holding had only taken a minute. Whatever it had been, it'd been enough for John to open back up. that was apparent as he stepped into the pub, and found the blonde sitting at the bar, smiling and chatting with Amilee. She was dealing with another customer while chatting directly to him; impressive. Greg himself could barely multitask with talking on the phone and writing something down. He wasn't as coordinated as he should be. 

   Amilee looked up at the door before smiling at Greg and shrugging him over. He complied and sat next to John. Amilee moved about quickly, getting him a beer. Her hair was up in a messy bun, but it was pink this time. "Wasn't your hair blue last time I saw you?" He asked, chuckling his thanks at the beer and tipped it back.

   "It's been a week. A lot can happen in a week," She shrugged with a smile on her face. "Besides, I decided I need a little bit of change to spice things up here and there. What about you, John?"  _A first name basis already. Damn, he's good._ He near choked on his beer at the last thought, but bit his tongue to keep from laughing. John didn't notice, and instead continued chatting with Amilee.

   "So.. where are you from?" John asked, licking his lips. "You have an accent.. sorry if I'm be nosy or anything-just curios," John covered himself up, blood rushing to his cheeks and tingeing them a soft pink.

   "I'm from South America. Family moved here when I was young, so I never thought about moving back, and I still don't. I'd rather be here," She winked at John before moving down the bar to attend to someone else.

   "Huh," John kept quiet after that, and eventually the duo went home. Lestrade dropped John off at the flat, properly drunk. Lestrade was sober, not even half a drink had gone to his lips. John waved off the DI and stumbled up into 221B, not expecting Sherlock to be home. His mind was fuzzed and he didn't realize the door was unlock when he entered, and didn't think of it. He walked in and took his shoes off and put his coat up on the hooks next to Sherlock's and the man's ever-infamous hat.

   The Omega climbed up the stairs to his bedroom and turned the lights on, idly changing out of his clothes and pulled on loose pajama pants. The blonde crawled into the bed and moaned in comfort, cheek smushed against the pillow.

   

    “John! Wake up!” Sherlock shoved the Omega roughly, before moving to the closet and digging through it. He picked out a red jumper and a simple pair of trousers. He threw them on the bed and ran down the stairs in a rush. “Time is of the essence, John!”

    Alphas, John thought to himself before turning the lamp on and wincing at the bright light before forcing himself up and out of bed. He checked the digital clock next to him and vaguely read ‘3:08’ oh god. He dressed, frowning at how the shirt fit; he hadn’t worn it forever but it felt vaguely comfortable. He shook the thought off his mind and bound down the stairs to the awaiting and impatient detective.

    “We have a case at Trent Equestrian Park. I used to go there, that’s why they have contacted me. They can’t legally include the police yet. I’ll tell you more on the way.” With that, Sherlock opened the flat door and nearly ran down the stairs and out the door to catch them a cab. No doubt I’m paying again, John mused and grabbed his wallet, phone, and flat keys and stuffed them into his pocket. He followed after the crazed brunet and out of the flat.

As soon as John had shut the door, Sherlock had gotten into the cab and given the address. He scowled at the Omega when John finally scooted in, probably thinking something along the line of ‘time is of the essence and you’re wasting valuable seconds’. Git.

     “The ride is nearly two hours,” Sherlock spoke. “The owner, Sue Martin, said one of her instructors went missing after taking one of their horses out for a ride. She sent out another instructor to go find them, and they said that the person who’d gone out was all bloody and dead. She wants me to find out what happened, she claims it wasn’t one of the horses. Obligated to ignore this, I do have to agree. They won’t let any horses that are easily-spooked out onto the trails at night.” Sherlock rambled on, John trying to stay awake the best he could. Once he found a point where the Alpha was talking to hear himself speak, the Omega zoned out and let himself fall asleep against the cab window.

     He didn’t know how long it was till he was awoken by Sherlock nudging him with one arm, the other handing something to the cabbie. Half-awake, John got out and stood there, the smell of horses and hay and nature filling his nose. He near sneezed, at the sudden change, but chewed his tongue to stop it. Sherlock stepped out and stood next to him, waved the cabbie off, and stood there. It was like he was in a trance as well. They waited a few minutes, watching the sun rising. It was still early as they turned to head up to one of the barns.

     John was far more than lost, but he stayed close to Sherlock, watching the horses being lead out of their stalls and let out into pastures, taking in the site of the giants. He chuckled to himself, loving the smell of them, the way their coarse felt under his hands. But he was on a case; now was not the time to think back on the past. Time was of the essence, Sherlock’s obnoxious voice reminded him in his head. Sherlock lead the way to the barns, taking in the scenery with a look of familiarity. He adjusted the way he stepped to work with the gravel and dirt under his boot, giving him enough friction to keep moving on. He heard the telltale crunches of John’s shoes, not as used to this terrain as he was, but he had doubted John’s ability to even be able to tell a horse from a pony. A miniature, sure.  Near everyone could. But as he lead the way, John’s stride became more sure and confident and soon the Omega was walking next to him with a constant speed and a lack of anxiety. _Good._

    The duo made their way, a stumpy blonde woman walking out in a fast pace, a near panicked but grateful look on her face. Sherlock didn't seem to deter at all at her attitude, but was taken aback as she reached them and wrapped her thick, stocky arms around the man's torso. She was much shorter than Sherlock, about the size of John but heavy with muscle. "Sherlock, I've missed you," the woman said before pulling away, hands on his upper arms as she stood back. "Come, I want to walk you around and I bet you and your company are wondering why you're here- and don't you dare back-talk me," the woman started speaking kind and teasing before firmer and teasing. 

    She lead them up to the barn at a more relaxed pace, coming between the Omega and Alpha. She had no direct scent, carried herself like an Alpha, and was comfortable between the two, not leaning to a certain one. "Yes, I'm a Beta, don't gawp. I'm Sarah, and you are?" She asked, looked at John with a smile. "John. John Watson. How did you-?" Sarah held a hand up at him as they walked. The woman shook her head and John nodded, simply following up to the barns. A frantic whinny came from the echoing barn and Sarah's faint smile turned to a frown.

   "That'd be her."

    

[in the works, lost some of added chapter info]

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic may be broken down to even less chapters, provided I leave this fic with somewhere between 10k and 14k. This chapter will probably have 3-4k when I'm officially done.


End file.
